Geographical Legacy.
“Learning to love the people and places we call home is essential to a healthy legacy. ”
I have lived in the Yukon for a year and a half, only to watch the Northern lights twice. People who regularly photograph Aurora Borealis are often not constricted to a standard job. On the nights when there have been good shows, clouds often divide us from the spectacle. With all these excuses, I'm not sure if I'm not a fan of photographing Northern Lights or partially bitter due to constraining life responsibilities.
The mossy, magenta serpents of the sky are fleeting, unpredictable, and often extravagant eye candy. The subjects that attract my lens are in the locations I frequent and see regularly. I've carefully observed dozens of specific trees in varying light, numerous contours of the earth, and many forest patterns. After composing these common subjects, I decided not to capture them due to a missing element. They all mean something to me because they support my practice of walking Aspen and intentionally observing my surroundings. Without ideal conditions, I feel I would be doing them an injustice in their representation. The Aurora Borealis can be stunning, but it sure isn't reliable or around when I'm doing the things I see as valuable. Regardless of how much we feel a place is home or not, caring for where we reside requires intentional observation and understanding.
Learning to love the people and places we call home is essential to a healthy legacy. Throughout my time in the Yukon, I have felt like a foreigner who does not belong. I'm grateful for the friendships we have developed here, but the culture feels unhealthy, and it does not feel like my place to critique or attempt to fix. Maybe that perspective is lazy or non-comital. I also acknowledge there are beautiful aspects to the Yukon and problems anywhere you go. I'm still learning; however, I feel responsible for where I grew up, so I yearn to return.
Thank you for reading, and I do hope you enjoy the photos!
Behind the Lens:
A side story unrelated to everything I have talked about is while photographing this night, a red fox silently crept within 2 meters behind me. I sensed it was there and turned around. Somewhat startled, I greeted it while it proceeded to circle to stand between myself and the forest. After what felt like 5 minutes of staring at one another, it sauntered off toward the tree line and disappeared into the night. I did not get a photo because it would have left much sooner if I had moved. That moment is a memorable one.
